red- w. maximoff
summary: wanda arrives after the call.
pairing: teacher!wanda x teacher!r
minors do not interact
the ceiling seems to be far more interesting— or maybe it’s easier to focus on than the thought of getting out of bed. in fact, you may even stay cemented into the bed sheets following the call with wanda.
you can practically hear the way your heart pounds in your chest and feel your stomach churning as the seconds count down to wanda’s arrival.
after a few minutes of silently staring at the white plaster above you, your feet find their way to the ground and move toward the living room. instead of aimlessly cleaning, you end up drinking a glass of wine to ease the nerves creeping up your spine.
a soft knock on your door pulls you out of your stupor, and you momentarily freeze in place.
another soft knock followed by wanda’s concerned voice calling your name.
you rush to the door, pulling your phone closer to your chest as if it can serve as a suit of armor against your… colleague?
you’re greeted with a grin, wanda’s green eyes, and bare face stunning you into an awed silence. a soft laugh is heard, but you’re unsure who it came from. wanda brushes past you into your apartment, placing a small container of muffins on your coffee table.
“i assumed you wouldn’t have anything to eat,” her voice is teasing, “i brought something small— i think muffins will suffice.”
her wavy hair and knit cardigan almost make your knees buckle. watching wanda walk into your home with such ease, as if she belonged there, brings a warm feeling to your chest that only she can coax out of you.
closing the door, you follow after her, “you know me so well, huh?”
wanda’s ears perk up at the way your voice is lower than usual, a slight rasp to it. she smirks slightly, noting the half-finished glass of wine that seems to be the cause of the pink hue on your face.
her head tilts as she looks at you from her space on the couch, “a lot more than you realize.”
you take a seat a few feet away from her, nodding, “i have no doubt you do, wanda.”
you can hear her giggle to herself at your words, watching as she moves to grab the remote to your tv and press play on a show the both of you have watched together.
the air is heavier than before. or maybe it’s the wine taking effect, or the fact that wanda’s legs are thrown over your lap as she eats a blueberry muffin.
but to you, it’s everything.
her legs rest over your lap like it’s the easiest thing in the world, but you’re frozen in place— acutely aware of the way her sweats feel against your palms as you mindlessly rub her leg.
wanda is thoughtfully taking a bite out of her muffin, then tilts her head toward you as you watch the show. her grin is playful, but her eyes are observant— too focused.
“what’s got you looking like you’re on the verge of a meltdown?” her voice is light and teasing, almost a compliment. she has a teasing smile on her face, her foot nudging your leg gently.
you go to respond, your mouth closing and opening like a fish out of water, the words tangling in your throat. instead, you let out a breathy laugh as you go to stand, “i, um, do you want some wine? i’m going to get some wine. you, us, some wine.”
her brow lifts, a grin on her face as she watches you stumble over your words. wanda’s eyes roam over your form, taking in the gray pajama set she gifted you last christmas— noting how you still seem to use it.
she bites on her thumb, fighting a giggle as she watches the way your body is itching to get rid of the nerves in your system.
“you’ve already started without me, haven’t you?”
“just one glass,” you defend, already walking back to her with two glasses and a bottle of red, “one more glass and i’ll be fine. i promise.”
her eyes linger on your hands as you pour her a glass. you pour a bit more than necessary, but wanda would never turn down a glass when it comes from you. when you hand her the glass, she smiles up at you with a quiet thank you.
“don’t say i didn’t warn you,” her voice is smug as she moves the glass to her lips and takes a sip. her eyes wander past her glass over to you with a smile on her lips.
the show on the screen only turns into background noise as the two of you nurse the glasses of wine and converse about nothing. laughter comes easier, voices grow lower, and the air thickens with tension that the two of you try your best to ignore.
somehow, wanda moves closer to you on the couch. her knee is now on top of your left leg, and she leans against her right hand on the back of the loveseat. she’s close enough now that you can see that the green in her eyes is almost completely dark.
you laugh softly to yourself as you notice how her eyes are slightly lower now that shes consumed three glasses of wine. the buzz of the wine, the weight of her gaze— it’s all heavier now, far more noticeable than she’s ever let it be known.
wanda is no stranger to your boldness when inebriated— or slightly buzzed. it’s no shock to her when you say things you technically shouldn’t, not that she shuns you away from it either.
“why do you have that look?” your voice comes out raspy, your eyes squinting just the tiniest bit.
her lips twitch in amusement, “what look?”
“it’s the same look you have when you look at me and you think i don’t notice,” your head lolls to the side a bit, “you’re not hiding it this time.”
wanda only chuckles, shaking her head, but she doesn’t look away. if anything, her eyes soften even more, as if she’s trying to memorize the way the warm light from the lamp casts a golden shadow against your skin.
and then it slips, “you make it so easy.”
the words hang in the air and your hand that is toying with the button on her cardigan stills in the air, “wanda-“
wanda swallows, and she clears her throat, “sorry, it’s the wine talking.”
you hum softly, “mm, no, i think you meant it.”
wanda only bites her thumb, fighting a smile as she notices the way your lips curve into a smile as you watch her with too much attention.
“you’re a lot softer when you’re drinking, you know that?” you attempt to ease the tension with a small tease.
wanda rolls her eyes, but doesn’t move from her spot right next to you, “i’m always soft with you, baby.”
the endearment slips out so naturally that it doesn’t even sound like a mistake— it may not even be a mistake. she doesn’t correct it, only moves a stray hair from your face.
her eyebrows are furrowed as her fingers linger against your cheek— like she’s deep in thought. she bites her lip, like she always done, when she’s concentrating or weighing her options.
before you can even say a word, wanda leans in and brushes her lips against yours. it’s cautious, too quick, but she lingers when she pulls away from you— like she’s deciding whether or not she’s allowed another taste.
your heartbeat quickens, and you can feel your face heat up. wanda is only centimeters from your lips, and all you can do is chase the feeling again.
this time, neither of you holds back as you mesh together. wanda’s hands hold either side of your face, and her smile is all you can feel against your lips. the kiss tastes like berries, and you’re unable to contain your grin as wanda moves to straddle your lap.
your fingers grip her waist as she sits atop you, her fingers moving to the back of your neck. small giggles erupt from her as she deepens the kiss, pushing you further into the cream sofa.
slowly, she begins to pull back and you’re greeted with a low-lidded wanda whose pouty lips only make you swoon more than you ever have before. she giggles as she steadies herself by holding onto your shoulders. you smile up at her, thumbs softly moving against her skin.
she watches you with a dazed expression, bottom lip between her teeth as she wipes your bottom lip with her chapstick.
as quickly as it happened, you see her come back to her body— eyes widening slightly as she quickly removes herself from your lap with haste.
“shit,” she whispers, “no, this isn’t something— we shouldn’t have done this.”
you finally realize what’s happening and stand to your feet, trying to reach wanda before she spirals any further, “wanda? wanda-“
“this is wrong,” her voice cracks, like she’s trying to convince herself rather than you, “we work together, you’re younger, this… god, what am i doing?”
you reach for her wrist, “wanda, please—“
she won’t let you get a word in before she begins looking for her purse. she moves around the apartment, her hands brushing her hair down.
“this is wrong,” she says again, faltering and voice breaking mid-word. she looks at you then, really looks at you, and for a split second you’re sure she’s going to kiss you again.
instead, she shakes her head and wipes the stray tears from her face, “i should know better.”
her hand twitches at her side, like she wants to reach for you, but she doesn’t. she only whispers a soft apology as she reaches the door of your apartment.
the slam never comes— she only closes it carefully, as if slamming the door will make her decision permanent.
and you’re left standing there, heart aching, replaying every moment you two just shared, and you can’t tell if it’s the wine burning your throat or her now overwhelming absence.